


The Greatest Gift

by Miracule



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miracule/pseuds/Miracule
Summary: Edward thought that he had finally managed to curb his perverse inclinations. Mr. Hornblower has, without a doubt, proved Sir Edward a dreadful failure.
Relationships: Horatio Hornblower/Edward Pellew
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	The Greatest Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read the books. I have not even finished watching the last episode of the series. But Captain Sir Edward Pellew of HMS Indefatigable is in love with Horatio Hornblower. There, I said it. 
> 
> Set sometime before "The Duchess and the Devil."

Captain Sir Edward Pellew sits at the desk in his quarters, gazing absently at a map of the French coast. Only, he does not see the French coast. He sees Horatio Hornblower. Not in the flesh, of course, but in his mind’s eye. To Edward’s dismay, young Hornblower makes for a far more attractive sight than the coast of France.

Hornblower is an extraordinarily handsome fellow. Edward cannot think of a specific moment in which this became apparent to him, but for some time now, Edward has found himself stealing furtive glances at the midshipman whenever their paths cross. Edward can only wonder at how a man could be born with such fine features as Hornblower has. And those large brown eyes, perpetually alight with his remarkable spirit. _Indefatigable_ , indeed.

Edward has often spied Hornblower smiling with his men. They seem to genuinely _like_ him—something very few midshipmen manage to achieve. Edward has even noticed them blushing under Hornblower’s heartfelt praise. But that Hornblower should command his captain’s admiration and affection—well, that is something that Edward keeps to himself. It isn’t the way of things, for a captain to feel awed by a mere midshipman. But God, if he isn’t in awe.

Edward thought that he had finally managed to curb his perverse inclinations. Mr. Hornblower has, without a doubt, proved Sir Edward a dreadful failure. But he would never act on it, of course. No, the thought is abhorrent to him. His hands on that young man… No. Abhorrent.

Edward has heard of other captains who bring young men into their quarters, offering favors in exchange for affection. Captains who abuse their power to perverse ends. He thanks God almost daily that Hornblower does not serve under such a captain. Sir Edward Pellew is no such captain.

But there are other sins to his name.

It comes at night, when he is alone—the ache in his belly. He has, on more than one occasion, found himself dreaming of how Hornblower makes love to his women. Steadily, surely, with long, even thrusts. All ease and elegance and self-assuredness. How they must love him—their sweet Horatio. How he must own their hearts and their bodies, utterly and completely.

Or perhaps he’s less practiced than Edward might imagine. Perhaps he has never had a woman. Does he lie in his cot at night, trousers undone, a hand around his cock? Stifling gasps so the others won’t hear him pleasuring himself?

Or, could it be that young Hornblower shares Edward’s proclivity toward the male of the species? Perhaps the fervor with which Hornblower mourned his bosom companion, Mr. Kennedy, suggests such a tendency. Edward imagines them, stealing a shy kiss in the hold, under their captain’s very nose.

Or perhaps that’s just an old man’s flight of fancy. Poor Mr. Kennedy—God rest his soul. Edward thinks that he should leave the man's memory be.

Still, Edward frequently finds himself in a losing battle against these squalid little fantasies. Good lord, he hasn’t felt so utterly out of his depth since he himself was a young officer aboard the _Arbiter_. He spent nearly a year so out of his head with desire for a fellow lieutenant that he nearly made the move of reaching for the man’s hand during a cold winter’s watch.

Is this how it will be from now on? Haunted by the want of a man? And not just any man, but that singular young officer? Surely, he is damned. Damned, damned, _damned_.

A sharp knock at the door collects Edward from his private confessional.

“Enter,” he calls, sweeping a hand across his face, smoothing a few loose hairs at his forehead.

“Forgive the intrusion, sir,” Mr. Bracegirdle says as he enters. Edward is surprised to see him at this hour. It’s first watch, isn't it? Bracegirdle continues, “you recall that Thomas, the new topman, fell ill last night?”

“I do,” Edward murmurs, straightening his aching shoulders. He instinctively reaches for his neckcloth, suddenly aware that he had loosened it hours earlier. He needs to shave as well, he realizes, with an unpleasant prickling of shame.

“Unfortunately, sir, Mr. Morgan’s just told me that a few more of the men have come to him with fever. He thought it best to move them to the orlop deck to keep a closer eye on them.”

“Fine,” Edward sighs, shifting in his seat. “How many?”

“Four more, sir. None are seriously ill, but Mr. Morgan is afraid that it may spread if they are not quarantined.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Bracegirdle. Do keep me appraised, will you? And who are the four?”

“Of course, sir.” Bracegirdle pauses, as if needing to recall their names. “Matthews, McAllister, Anderson, and, ah, Mr. Hornblower, sir.”

“Ah.” Edward frowns. He looks at Bracegirdle for a moment, working to think of something to say. A protracted, uncomfortable silence follows in which Edward finds himself entirely bereft of a reasonable response. Of course, it would be Hornblower. It would always be Hornblower, wouldn’t it? If Hornblower could volunteer himself to fall ill instead of his men, he would do it.

Mr. Bracegirdle mercifully intervenes. “It is not thought to be serious, sir,” he says, as if Edward hadn’t heard him the first time. “I just came from the orlop. Mr. Hornblower was lively, asking after the others. Mr. Morgan is already tired of him, I think.”

“Yes, indeed?” Edward loosens the neckcloth he just finished tightening. “Good man, Hornblower.” A little smile plays on his lips.

“That he is, sir,” Bracegirdle agrees, readily. “One of a kind.”

“Do I detect a touch of tenderness in you, Mr. Bracegirdle?” Edward chides gently, lifting his chin. He is glad for the opportunity to turn his attention on another subject.

Bracegirdle plays along. “ _Perhaps_ , sir. He is a singular young man, is he not?”

Edward leans back in his chair, thinking carefully on his reply. “I believe he is, Mr. Bracegirdle, I do.” The admission is more earnest than Edward intended, and to his relief, Bracegirdle says no more on the matter.

“Indeed. For the moment, sir, I have nothing else. Only, I will ask Mr. Morgan to report in the morning.”

“Very well,” says Edward, offering a half-hearted salute. “Good night, Mr. Bracegirdle.”

Bracegirdle touches his hat and shuts the door quietly behind him. Edward, utterly exhausted and yet suddenly peculiarly fearful, sits in the gathering dark with his stomach churning. That night, he does not dream of Hornblower’s romantic exploits, but of the young man’s labored breathing below.

\--

With the permission of the surgeon, Edward decides to pay the men on the orlop deck a visit. It is an unseasonable, pleasant day, although the heat of the sun does not penetrate down to the lower levels of the ship. Edward thinks that perhaps he should have Mr. Morgan take the men above, if they are feeling well enough to move about.

Still, the makeshift sickbay is warm enough due to the placement of some extra oil lamps around the men’s beds. Upon Edward’s arrival, the men all sit up straight as if singed by a flame. Thomas, the young topman, nearly falls from his bed in his rush to salute.

“Sir!” says Hornblower, visibly surprised. His dark eyes are wide as he gathers his shirt from where it has slipped from his shoulders. As if on cue, Matthews descends into a laborious coughing fit and buries his face into his blanket.

“At ease, please, gentlemen,” Edward says. He stands far enough away that he is not susceptible to the air around them, but close enough that he can see that their faces are pale and drawn. Matthews, emerging from the folds of his blanket, wipes sweat from his brow. In the bed beside him, young Hornblower’s dark curls stand in sharp contrast to the pallor of his skin. Still, the young officer swings his legs over the side of his bed in an attempt to stand.

“I said at ease, man!” Edward scolds him. “Do not touch your feet to that floor, Mr. Hornblower.”

Hornblower draws his knees back toward his chest, and Edward finds himself saddled with the ridiculous urge to cross the deck and ease the young man onto his back.

“Mr. Hornblower is quite eager to return to his duties,” offers Morgan—a good-natured man with a penchant for complimenting the men in his care. “He is not exactly the model patient, sir. I believe he makes a far better officer.”

Edward scowls, although his tone remains light. “Is that so, Mr. Hornblower? Are you not a model patient for our good physician here?”

Hornblower’s face flushes pink, and the other men look around at him, amused.

“What of Mr. Matthews?” Edward continues as he inclines his head toward the older seaman, “I am sure you are a model patient, are you not?”

“Aye, sir.”

“And you all?”

“Aye, sir,” they echo.

“Well, Mr. Hornblower, I would have expected better of you,” Edward muses. “Listen to Mr. Morgan. We need you well rested, man.”

“Aye, sir.” Hornblower nods sheepishly. “Thank you, sir.”

Edward smiles briefly. He knows that it is not entirely appropriate to embarrass a young officer in front of his men. A moment’s lapse in judgment, perhaps. Still, he leaves the orlop deck in much better spirits than he entered it. It is odd—this sudden lightening of his mood. The night before, he was hardly able to sleep for dread.

That night, at his desk, he thinks again of Hornblower.

But there is less of a burning his belly. Tonight, his head and his heart are as light as air. When Hornblower returns to his duties, Edward will make it a point to tell him that he is glad to see him well. He pictures the lad’s wide, toothy grin at the remark—his stuttering “thank you, sir.” Such an odd thing, Edward thinks, to feel such anticipation at the promise of a smile.

Maybe Sir Edward is damned. But if God shall not love him, then he will make do with the love of Horatio Hornblower—a far more valuable gift.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't get me wrong. Later in the series, I'm all here for Captain Dad™, but this is how their relationship struck me earlier on, and I wanted to get it down on paper.


End file.
